Siuil A Ruin Go, My Love
by Yseult deBreton
Summary: Buffy, Angel, and Oz prepare to take on the Mayor.
1. Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: I don't own them.  
AUTHOR'S NOTES (1): This is dark in places and involves major character death.  
AUTHOR'S NOTES (2): Thoughts are in italics. Lyrics and translations are traditional.  
AUTHOR'S NOTES (3):  The original R/NC-17 version is available on my website Yseult's Passion (http://yseultspassion.com).

* * *

Buffy cursed. _Damn it, Snyder_. It was her last thought as she slipped on the recently waxed floor. Her head caught the outside edge of an open classroom door and her vision blurred. That's when she saw the greyish green skin of the now-demon Mayor heading straight for her.

* * *

She opened her eyes. _Maybe_. _Maybe my eyes are closed_. She blinked. _Nope_, _definitely open. So why's it so dark? And quiet? Oh, crap. I'm dead or… undead._ She panicked. Her heart raced. She gulped large dusty breaths of air. _Air. Hey. I can breathe._ She took another breath._ Great Slayer instincts here. Can't even figure out if I'm dead or alive._ She sat up and felt a lump above her left ear. She couldn't feel any wetness, but her fingers found a long jagged crust of blood. _I hope bald patches are in this year._

Buffy rolled onto her hands and knees and pushed herself into a standing position. She waited for the dizziness to disappear. It lessened, but it didn't go away. _This is so not good._ She rubbed her sticky hands on her pants. _And what is that smell?_ She began to sway. _Uh-oh. Going down?_ She leaned to her right and collided with a metallic surface that made a terrible echoing sound in her head. She was by the lockers. _Geez. I'm never gonna get out of high school._

Using the lockers as a guide and crutch, Buffy limped down the corridor. She hurt everywhere. Somehow she reached a corner and stopped. _Which way now?_ She didn't know where she was. _Right? Left?_ She squinted in both directions. One hallway seemed lighter than the other. _We'll take door number one_.

A determined Slayer turned the corner, tripped over something, and sprawled on the floor. _Great. Now I gotta get up again._ She tried to stand and felt nauseous. Her hand brushed the something. It was soft and long; it felt like a sleeve on an arm. It stank of human blood. _Please don't let this be someone I know._ She tried to find a pulse. The body had no hands. She didn't want to find out if its head was gone too.

Buffy's hand slipped into a hole in the chest. Startled, she pulled her hand out and wiped it on the … jacket? _Wait_. The material felt familiar. She rubbed it between her fingers and leaned closer to smell it. _Tweed._ She froze. _Giles? _ She couldn't breathe. _It can't be Giles. He's supposed to be outside pushing the plunger thingy. _She ran her hand along the jacket's lapel to the collar. The head was still attached. Gingerly, her fingers explored the face and wrapped around a pair of "Watcher glasses". Cordelia had christened the glasses during one of her Watcher fashion tirades. The glasses were purely functional, hopelessly dated, and totally Giles. Buffy cupped his face with her hand. It was so cold. She wrapped her arms around his body and laid her head on his chest. "Giles," she whispered, "how did this happen?" 

* * *

Buffy's mind shut down as she sat with her Watcher. She couldn't grasp that he was gone. It wasn't like the last time with Merrick. Giles had been her parent and friend. He had stood beside her through the whole mess with Angel and Faith. He had loved her like a daughter. Now he was dead. Giles was dead. _Giles was dead._ At some point, her brain started to work again. She needed to get out of the building and find the others. Before she left Giles, she smoothed his hair and kissed his forehead. Then she carefully removed his glasses and slipped them in her pocket.

She crawled outside through a hole in a wall. She was in the school's courtyard where Graduation had been held earlier. The air was clear, but the sky was dark and a steady black drizzle fell. Buffy looked around. She had once seen a film about a volcano in the Philippines. She still remembered how barren the land had looked. Everything had been bathed in ash or was charred: the buildings, the vegetation, even the people. That's what she saw now - monochromatic devastation. Buffy wandered aimlessly. There were parts of students and teachers scattered like confetti. She looked back at the school. It was a gigantic fireball. _Now what?_ Earlier, in the library, they had all agreed to meet at The Bronze if they survived. _All except Angel, who's not even gonna tell me… Never mind. Not going there_.

Buffy's head ached and her eyes burned. Her hands were torn and bloodied. She was thirsty, dirty, and tired. She couldn't decide what to do. Maybe she should look for Xander and Willow. The last time she'd seen Xander, he was leading the charge against the Mayor's minions. She hadn't even hugged Willow. She hoped Willow was with Oz. She didn't even want to think about her mother. _Mom, why did you come back? Why couldn't you just've trusted me on this?_ Buffy took a deep breath.Her mom had been sitting with the other proud parents. When the Mayor ascended, the parents had fled towards the school and into a group of vampires.

Something moved to her left. Vampires or demons. Either way, she was in no condition to fight. _Guess that means run and hide._ She searched the ground for a makeshift stake in case her strategy backfired.

* * *

It took Buffy nearly two hours to reach The Bronze. Sunnydale looked like a war zone. Fire swept unchecked through offices, stores, and homes. Cars had been abandoned wherever their drivers were killed. Most of the roads were impassable; they were rippled with deep fissures and sinkholes. Buffy hadn't seen any emergency personnel – no firemen, no police, no ambulances. In fact, she hadn't seen anyone.

_What had Anya said? Oh, right. Maybe three people made it out of that town._ Glass crackled and broke under Buffy's feet as she approached The Bronze. Somewhere a car alarm screamed and gas pipes exploded. A fire blazed in front of the popular hangout. Four humans were huddled around it. Each of them had the same dazed and haunted look.

 "Hi," Buffy croaked as she approached the wary group. Everyone stared at her. A man silently offered her a cup of tepid brown liquid. She thanked him, and searched the faces in front of her. She didn't recognize any of these people. A woman gazed into the fire and began to sing.

I wish I were on yonder hill  
Tis there I'd sit and cry my fill  
And every tear would turn a mill  
Is go dte tu mo mhuirnin slan 

_Siuil, siuil, siuil a ruin  
Siuil go sochari agus siuil go ciuin  
Siuil go doras agus ealaigh liom  
Is go dte tu mo mhuirnin slan_

Buffy recognized the tune. Angel had taken her to a coffeehouse on St. Patrick's Day. An Irish group was singing what Angel called "traditional music", whatever that was. Buffy had fidgeted with her drink, bored with the music, until Angel's hand had rested on her arm. "This is an old song," he'd whispered into her ear as he pulled her onto his lap and translated the words. "_Go, go, go my love / Go quietly and peacefully / Go to the door and flee with me / And may you go safely my dear_." For the rest of the evening, she had sat mesmerized by his voice and the incredibly poetic and tragic music of his homeland.

I wish, I wish, I wish in vain  
I wish I had my heart again  
And then methink I'd ne'er complain  
Is go dte tu mo mhuirnin slan 

She jerked awake when someone jostled her. She'd literally fallen asleep on her feet. Buffy looked around. She didn't know what time it was, but she knew no one else was coming. Not Willow or Xander or Oz or Cordelia, or, God help her, not even Wesley. _Not Angel either_. She was completely alone.

_Think, Buffy, think. You need to get of town. You need food, water, weapons._ She didn't have the strength to go home. Her mother wouldn't be there, and she just couldn't deal with that right now. Crawford Street was closer. She had left some weapons there yesterday. _Was it only yesterday that she had stabbed Faith?_

She looked at the other survivors. They looked at her. There was nothing to say, so she just left.


	2. Chapter 2

Angel was frantic. When the students descended the steps en masse, he knew that it was the signal for Buffy to act as bait. He absolutely hated her plan, but there hadn't been a better one. Buffy was the Slayer, and that meant she had Slayer speed. But she was still recovering from … He couldn't even form the words to describe what had happened at the mansion. She'd said she was fine. No, that was a lie. Her exact words were, "I heal fast." If Faith hadn't poisoned him, … That wasn't true. If Buffy hadn't forced him, he would never have… That also wasn't true. _I've always wanted her. Except she thought I would stay because she let me …_ He couldn't finish this thought, either. It was one more reason to leave, one more thing to regret. Both of which he had been completely prepared to do until the school didn't blow up as planned. That meant something had happened to Buffy. And he had to know what.

His gaze swept the chaos around him. Students and vampires were engaged in vicious hand-to-hand fighting. There had been little time to prepare the graduating class of Sunnydale High. For now, the teenagers had the upper hand. The Mayor's forces had been expecting sheep, not combative and organized students. Xander had done an admirable job of coordinating the offensive attacks on the vampires. The Mayor's foot soldiers had been completely surprised. But, the vampires were physically stronger, and they had greater stamina. It was only a matter of time before they overcame the students. The number of human casualties was already climbing.

Angel caught Xander's eye and shouted, "Where's Buffy?" Xander shrugged and looked worried. A vampire grabbed Angel from behind, and the two wrestled to the ground. When Angel got up, he shook its dust from his clothes. He searched for Xander but couldn't find him. 

Willow had heard the question, though. She yelled Angel's name to get his attention. "She told me to go. Then she took off running. She should've been there by now." As soon as she spoke the words, Willow guessed what had happened to her best friend. "Buffy?" she whispered and sank to her knees numbed by shock and grief. Oz screamed Willow's name just as a vampire sunk its fangs deep into her neck and sucked greedily. She didn't hear her boyfriend's inhuman howl.

Angel could only stare. He was too far away to help Willow. He swallowed the lump in his throat and continued to fight his way up the steps towards the school and Buffy.

* * *

Cordelia had an unobstructed view of the insanity at the top and bottom of the steps. She was also too far away from Willow when the redheaded teenager died. Tears welled in Cordelia's eyes. The brunette quickly brushed her hand across her face. She so didn't have time to cry. And speaking of time, there should've been a big kaboom already. She'd seen Buffy run into the school with the Mayor _(or snake or whatever)_ racing behind her. _C'mon, Buffy, what's taking so long?_

There was a momentary lull in the fighting around Cordelia, and she scanned the crowd for Oz and Xander. They were both knee-deep in vampires. _God, you'd think that after all this time hanging out in cemeteries with "Buffy the Vampire Slayer", Xander would've developed some kind of decent fighting style. What does he call that? Duck and stake?_

Xander suddenly looked straight at Cordelia. "Find Buffy and Giles," he ordered over the din_. Find Buffy and Giles? Sure, I can do that. I'll just ask these very nice vampires if they could please stop fighting so I can find the Vampire Slayer and, by the way, could they also help me look for Giles. I can see it now._ Cordelia sighed and rolled her eyes. "OK," she mouthed back. Xander nodded and returned to the fighting. It occurred to Cordelia that he probably didn't know that Willow was dead.

There was no way she was going into that school building. She gripped her stake tightly in her hand and hugged the contours of the building as she followed it to the rear of the school grounds. She peered around the last corner and spotted the detonator and wires, but no Giles. _Now what?_ This whole crazy plan was centered on blowing the mayor up à la volcano. She looked at the sky. The Mayor-as-demon towered over the school; his head was directly over the library. If she left now, without doing the Wiley Coyote thing, who knew when the Mayor would die. She hoped Buffy and Giles would understand. Cordelia sprinted across the lawn. The sudden movement caught the Mayor's attention and his long neck plummeted towards the girl._ Oh, hell, I'm not gonna make it. May as well go out in style._ Cordelia dove for the detonator just as the Mayor's jaws closed around her body. Her momentum depressed the plunger, and a fantastic explosion rocked the school.

* * *

The fighting ceased abruptly as explosions rocked Sunnydale High. Students and vampires froze and stared in awe as the building exploded and then collapsed on itself. Angel wanted to believe that Giles and Buffy had blown up the school, but the timing was wrong. He had seen Cordelia leave. Humans and demons didn't move as the dust settled. Suddenly, part of the building stirred, and the Mayor's head emerged. "Well, that wasn't very nice," he said conversationally. "In fact, that makes me really angry." It was the cue for the fighting to resume.

They had tried to plan for every contingency, including this one. "Run! Get out! Go!" yelled Xander to the remaining students. It was the signal for retreat. Angel grabbed Xander's arm at the top of the steps. "I have to find Buffy," he said.

 "Yeah, I know," replied Xander, and he headed to the school. He was damned if he was going to let Buffy die like Willow. He didn't want to think about Willow. His best friend since kindergarten was dead. He'd sent his ex-girlfriend on a suicide mission. There was no way he was not going to help Deadboy find Buffy.

The Mayor spotted them immediately. If he was going to retain his new demon self, he needed to feed soon. But Angel had rejected his Faith, and that was unforgivable. As the Mayor roared towards them, Angel shoved Xander back down the steps ; the vampire ran in the opposite direction. The diversion worked. The Mayor's head whipped around and refocused on the lone figure racing towards the school. Angel disappeared into the crumbling building. The Mayor followed without a second thought. Outside, the vampires converged on the surviving humans in an orgiastic feeding frenzy. 


	3. Chapter 3

They had not planned for every contingency. This was a desperate life or death struggle, and the winners were those who drew on their baser survival instincts. For Oz those instincts belonged to the werewolf. Initially, he had fought the transformation through the sheer exertion of his will. And then Willow was killed, and Oz was consumed with unbearable rage and grief. These powerful emotions upset his precarious tightrope act, and the werewolf had emerged in a crazed fury. 

Ultimately, Oz survived the Mayor's feast because he was a werewolf. When his rage was spent, he reverted back to his human form. Dazed, he surveyed the landscape and promptly vomited. The school grounds were a nightmarish scene of ravaged bodies and grotesque debris covered with dust and soot and the sickly sweet smell of death. Oz continued to vomit and dry heave until there was nothing left inside of him. Wiping his mouth on his shirtsleeve, he stood and tried not to breathe deeply. A surreal black rain was falling. He could hear terrible screams from the surrounding neighborhoods. _Guessing that the Mayor ascended. Time to move on._ But, first, he needed to see Willow again.

He searched until he spotted a body with silky red hair and a yellow jacket. He turned it over and lovingly cleaned Willow's pale face. He ran his fingers over it memorising the fine details and caressing the freckles. He touched her eyebrows and lips and gave her forehead a soft kiss. "I'm so sorry," he whispered. He removed the stake from his pocket and plunged it into her chest. After seeing Vampire Willow, his Willow had been very clear about not coming back as a "skanky vamp ho in leather pants and a corset so tight I can't breathe but then I guess you don't need to breathe when you're a vampire, do you? But I did look kind of sexy. Don't you think I looked kind of sexy, Oz?" She had indeed looked very sexy, and he had stopped further babbling with a heated kiss. Oz smiled at the memory.

What he really wanted to do was dig a deep grave and bury Willow's body. He didn't have time. Instead, he laid his girlfriend gently on the ground and quickly walked away. _Goodbye, Willow. _

* * *

Angel couldn't find Buffy, but he could smell her blood and that terrified him. He had lost the Mayor when he entered the building and crawled through random openings in the debris. The vampire had climbed over demolished furniture and under cracked and trembling beams following Buffy's bloody scent where he could. He had been stopped by a mountain of crushed metal, broken plaster, and melted structural supports. He had tried to go around it, over it, even through it. There was no access to the other side. He had called Buffy's name, begging and pleading for her to respond. There had been no answer. _Maybe she's waiting at The Bronze._

He emerged from the remnants of Sunnydale High covered with soot and ash and God knows what else. It was nightfall and somewhere Buffy was hurt. _Please be safe. I need you to be okay._

* * *

Angel found Oz waiting outside of The Bronze. Together they lifted an unconscious Wesley into Oz's van. Angel had discovered the ex-Watcher behind a bush, as if he'd been thrown out of the way. _Which he probably had_. Angel couldn't leave him there. The man had barely stirred as the vampire carried him through the streets of Sunnydale. With each step, Angel cursed the Englishman under his breath. _I can't believe I'm doing this. You barely threw a punch. And I need to find Buffy, not take care of you._ Wesley had punctuated Angel's monologue with moans as he floated out of his dream world. The ongoing waves of pain had quickly submerged him back into silence

Oz and Angel tried to straighten Wesley's broken body, but the moaning quickly descended into screams. They gave up and left him lying in the back of the van. They had been painfully silent during the entire gruesome exercise. Finally, Oz spoke to Angel. "Did you find her?" The vampire shook his head.

"I'm sorry about Willow," he replied. "Did you see anyone else?" _Cordelia or Giles? Why isn't Xander with you?_

Oz looked at his feet, lost in thought. He'd seen Larry's crumpled body, Jonathan's dismembered corpse, Percy's broken neck. He had not seen Xander or, more specifically, he had not seen anything that resembled Xander. But that was a meaningless statement. On the school's bloody grounds, there was a horrifying distinction between those who had died early in the fighting and those who were consumed at its end.

 "How long should we wait?" Oz asked Angel. The answer was an earthquake that split the road in half. "I don't think we can," admitted Angel. _But I can't leave either. What if she comes here?_ "But we will," said Oz, then added, "She'll be here."

Wesley moaned again as another quake shook the van.

* * *

They waited an hour, then left. Not because Angel wanted to. Wesley was finally conscious and coherent and in full-blown Watcher mode. He was also not screaming in pain. Oz and Angel had exchanged a quizzical look at this change. "Hey, man," broached Oz, "you doin' okay?"

Wesley had pulled himself into a sitting position on the van's floor. The side door was open, and he could see the fires and rain and hear the screams. Another tremor rocked the van. Only Angel and Oz were here. Wesley could guess the rest. The Mayor had ascended. Sunnydale was about to disappear. They were the only survivors. They needed to leave… now. He explained it to them in excruciating detail. Angel turned to Oz, "I think I liked it more when he was comatose."

"I'll second that," said Oz and closed the door on a still-pontificating Wesley. "But, the man does have a point."

"Yeah, I know." Angel tried to visualize the next few days. "We should stop at the mansion and get some weapons and, uh, supplies." Angel had last fed when Buffy had … He could still feel the elixir of her blood in his veins; it would last for several days. But Wesley and Oz needed food and water, and the roads would soon be impassable. They really did have to leave now. He scanned the area around The Bronze again and tried to sense her presence. She wasn't here. He would wait for her forever. But, if they didn't leave now, Oz and Wesley would not survive the night. _Buffy, where are you?_

"Let's go," he said reluctantly and climbed into the van. 


	4. Chapter 4

AUTHOR'S NOTES (1):  Thoughts are still in italics. color:black'>  
AUTHOR'S NOTES (2):  Thanks to Liz who's now read 3 completely different versions of this chapter and who finally told me to just post the damn thing already. Thanks also to all of you who sent feedback. And, no, there are no plans for an Oz/Angel/Wesley sexual romp. Although that's certainly an idea worth exploring…wicked grin

* * *

Wesley was surprised that the mansion was undamaged until he recalled that it was on the outskirts of Sunnydale. Angel carried him into the unlit great room and carefully laid him on the couch. The vampire moved precisely through the room avoiding the remnants of the coffee table. He built a fire and went into the kitchen to unpack the medical supplies they had "liberated" on the way. 

Oz trailed the vampire into the kitchen. "Angel, I think we should get Wesley to the hospital," he ventured. The scent of fresh blood wafting from the back of the van had sent Angel into game face as soon as they left The Bronze. The drive to the mansion had been extremely tense partly because Angel had not shifted back to his human face. Oz had assumed it was the proximity of fresh blood, but they were two rooms away from Wesley, and the vampire still had not changed his features. 

Angel looked closely at the young man. It had been an overwhelming twenty-four hours for Oz. He and Willow had made love for the first and last times, the Mayor had ascended and turned Sunnydale into a hellish wasteland, and most of the people Oz cared about were dead or missing. He was exhausted, and he was scared. Adrenaline was the only thing keeping him upright. His eyes shifted constantly from human to werewolf and back again. Angel relaxed his face. "Why don't you try and get some rest?" he suggested. "I'll deal with Wesley."

Oz nodded his thanks and grabbed some energy bars and bottled water. "Okay. Come get me if, you know, something changes."

Angel gathered up bandages, disinfectant, towels, and a bowl of water and headed back into the great room. He was not looking forward to the next thirty minutes.

* * *

Wesley was lost in the movement of the flames when Angel re-entered the great room. "Wesley?" The man looked awful and smelled delectable. Angel touched him gently on the arm, "Wesley?" The ex-Watcher returned his attention to the vampire. "Where's Oz?" he asked.

Angel gestured towards the bedrooms. "Resting. I thought it would be better for him not to be here for this," he said, indicating the bandages and disinfectant.

 "I need to tell you some things first," said Wesley. Angel stopped unrolling the bandages. It wasn't Wesley's words but his tone that demanded attention. It was soft yet authoritative, like Giles, but without the harshness and prissiness that Angel had always associated with Wesley. _This can't be good news. I don't want to hear this._

"Should I get Oz?" wondered Angel.

"No. This is for you only." Wesley's hands played with the blanket that Angel had given him. "I'm dying," he stated, daring the vampire to dispute him.

Angel took an unneeded breath. "I know. I can take you to the hospital if you want." Angel had never liked Buffy's new Watcher, but the man sitting in front of him was not that Watcher. This was someone else.

Wesley's answer didn't surprise him. "No. I'm needed here." _Now I know I'm not gonna like this._ Angel waited for him to continue. "These earthquakes are not part of the Ascension." Wesley paused, then added, "I think the Hellmouth is opening."

Angel was dumbstruck by Wesley's statement. He opened and closed his mouth several times before he could speak. "You're kidding, right? Why now?" As soon as he asked the question, he knew the answer. _The Mayor. _Angel began to pace in front of the fire.

"There's more," said Wesley. The vampire abruptly stopped pacing. _There's more? How could there be more? The Mayor has ascended, and the Hellmouth is opening. That usually means the end of the world. What more could there be?_

"You have to close the Hellmouth." _What?_ "What?!" sputtered Angel.

"You are the only one who can close the Hellmouth," explained Wesley. "I can't do it because of…" Wesley waved at his body, "…and Oz has no experience. If Buffy were here –" The vampire growled and flashed golden eyes at the ex-Watcher. Wesley stared him down and repeated in a quieter voice, "If Buffy were here, she would do it. We both know that. In the meantime, you are the only one." 

Angel snarled and resumed his pacing. "How? The last time the Hellmouth opened, it took two slayers, a witch-in-training, a Watcher, and me to close it, and we damn well nearly didn't make it!" Angel was yelling by the time he finished the sentence. _This cannot be happening._

"We damn well nearly didn't make what?" Oz's voice penetrated the tension in the room. He glanced at Angel and Wesley. Their body language screamed brewing trouble. "Uh, guys? Not feeling the love here. What's goin' on?" 

Angel glared at Wesley who refused to answer. "He has a right to know," demanded Angel. The ex-Watcher sighed deeply. "I'm dying."

"Got that part already," said Oz. "Kinda hard to miss actually."

"And the Hellmouth is opening," Wesley mumbled. Oz turned to Angel. "And the upside would be?"

"He wants me to close it," replied Angel. Oz raised his eyebrows. "No offense," the boy offered, "but I don't think that's in your job description."

Angel smiled, "I guess it is now." He regarded Wesley and took another unneeded breath. "Tell me what to do."

* * *

Apparently they had about a day to close the Hellmouth, and Wesley had a simple yet effective plan: Angel would cast a sealing spell over the Hellmouth. The complicated part, as Wesley explained it, was the details. They needed to find a sealing spell, which meant research. The books from the Sunnydale High library had been split between Wesley's home, Giles' apartment, and Willow's basement. Someone would have to go out into the apocalyptic night and get the books. Once they found the right spell, they would need to gather the ingredients. That would be another journey into the horror. Finally, Angel would have to go back to Sunnydale High's library and get close enough to the Hellmouth to cast the spell without getting dusted. 

Wesley glanced at the werewolf and vampire before him and tried to sound Watcherly. "I think it can be done." He waited for Angel to say something, anything. It was Oz who broke the silence. "That complicated part? You do know that's more like a suicidal part, don't you?" 

* * *

They left Wesley at the mansion and took Oz's van. They returned with several boxes of books and miscellaneous mystical ingredients that they had scrounged from Giles' home. They spread the books out on the great room floor and began to research. Oz finally gave up trying to read words through his closed eyelids and headed back to his temporary bed.

An hour after that, Angel stood up abruptly. "I'm going to patrol, see if I can find out what else the Mayor is doing," he explained. Wesley stopped reading and regarded the vampire. "You think she's still alive?" he asked in a carefully neutral voice.

Angel did not want to think about a dead Buffy. He wouldn't believe it until he saw her body. If she was dead, he didn't care if the Hellmouth opened and swallowed the world. He didn't think he could live without her alive somewhere in it. He answered Wesley honestly. "I don't know. But I have to find out." He stormed out of the mansion, his duster swirling around his feet.

* * *

Three piles of books surrounded Wesley: rejects, not yet reads, and maybes. The rejects pile was steadily increasing. It seemed he had been reading for hours. His head was pounding, and the tea Angel had left him was cold. He sipped it anyway. "`For optimum results, use a Slayer'?" he read aloud and threw the book across the room in disgust. "If I had a bloody Slayer, I wouldn't be trying to make it work with a vampire."

Someone picked up the discarded book. "I'm kind of bloody. Does that count?" Wesley's teacup shattered on the mansion floor. 


	5. Chapter 5

Wesley could not believe his eyes. She stood in the great room with a hand on her hip and her head cocked to one side. "Well, will I do or not? Because, frankly Wesley, I've got way better things to do," she said and flashed him a weak smile. 

 "Ub… um… unh… Buffy! You're… where… how… a-a-alive!" he finally spluttered. He squinted at her. "You are alive, yes?" Wesley removed the stake from under his blanket. Buffy rolled her eyes. "Yes, Wesley, I'm alive. Wanna check my pulse?"

She was suddenly doused in water. "What the…" She spun to face her attacker. Oz held an empty bottle of holy water. "No thanks, Buff," Oz replied. "We're good. Hi." 

She turned back to Wesley. He was still staring at her in shock. His Slayer was exhausted, her clothes were torn, and she was covered in bruises and blood. She had several nasty gashes on her arms and legs. Even at this distance, he could see the dried blood behind her ear and her slightly unfocused eyes. She looked defeated and scared and lonely. "How are you?" he asked gently.

"Well, I can string words together and make whole sentences. Some are even grammatically correct. The question is how are you?" He immediately broke eye contact. "Wesley?" This time the question was full of concern and empty of sarcasm. Buffy moved closer to him and really looked at her last living ex-Watcher. He was seated awkwardly on the couch. She had noticed his jerky movements earlier, but dismissed them as unimportant. Now she realized what was wrong: Wesley was paralyzed. She peered at his face. His eyes were sunken, and he was pale. "Wesley?" she asked again. "What happened to you?"

* * *

By the time they were done talking, they had finished two pots of tea. Buffy had sat and listened in stunned silence as Oz told her about Willow and what he guessed had happened to Xander and Cordelia. In return, she described what she had seen in the school and at The Bronze. She told them about the chaos she had encountered as she made her way to the mansion. Hundreds of demons were rampaging, looting, and murdering the residents of Sunnydale. The few humans she had seen were dazed and unresponsive; she had been powerless to help anyone except herself. She had seen a family eaten alive while she hid in a destroyed car. After, the killers had danced on the bones and boasted about their "victory".

Finally, she told them about Giles. Wesley's only comment upon hearing that his colleague was dead was, "I see." Buffy almost said something shameful, but at the last second she saw Wesley's eyes. She put her hand in his and squeezed it. They sat like that for a while, silently staring into the fire.

* * *

Oz but no Willow. No Xander, no Cordelia, no Giles. She hadn't dared to ask about Angel; no one had mentioned his name. And then Oz casually asked, "Are you hungry? Cuz Angel made sure to get stuff you'd eat." _Angel's here? He survived the Ascension? _She wanted to cry with relief. _Angel's okay and he's here. Well, not here right now. I'd know if he was here. Why isn't he here?_ "Where's Angel?" she asked Wesley. "Why didn't he stay?" _Did he leave like he said?_ Her heart began to break again.

"Ah, well, there have been some, uh, recent developments," said Wesley in his best Watcher voice and nearly withered from the glare Buffy sent him. He was hiding something; she knew because he was nervous. She tapped her foot. "Spit it out, Wesley. Now." Oz recognized the look and the toe tapping as the signs of an about to be seriously pissed-off Slayer. "This is where I came in the first time," he said and hugged Buffy . "Angel's one of the good guys. It'll be fine," he offered as he walked out of the room.

_What will be fine? _She fixed Wesley with her patented death glare. "I'm. Still. Waiting." Wesley took several deep breaths. Worst-case scenario: the Slayer would kill him slowly. Best-case scenario: the Slayer would kill him quickly. Either way, she was not going to be happy with what he was about to say. "Where. Is. Angel?" she repeated slowly.

"Yes, well, you see," began Wesley, "the Hellmouth is opening. We know it's connected to the Mayor's Ascension, but we don't know why. We need to prevent this event or the world that we know will end. The plan is to seal the Hellmouth. We are researching spells, to find and perhaps adapt one for our purpose." He droned on trying to drown her question with facts and suppositions. _It's not that I don't want her to know where Angel is_, he reasoned to himself, _I just don't know if telling her why he's out there is useful_. He knew her relationship with Angel had ended badly. He also knew that Angel was supposed to leave Sunnydale after the Ascension. What he didn't know was if the vampire was still planning to go. If Wesley told Buffy the truth, would he be setting her up for further pain? Giles' death had nearly undone her. The world needed a Slayer who was in control, not one wracked by grief. He continued, "So, Angel has gone to… that is, he's trying to find--" 

Buffy interrupted him. "Believe it or not, Wesley, I can make your life even more miserable," she reminded him.

The ex-Watcher gave up and looked directly at her for the first time since Oz's departure. "Angel is searching for you."

* * *

Buffy entered the bathroom and prayed to the shower gods for hot and cold running water. Her mind had finally shut down. She knew she was having a delayed reaction to the day's events. Wesley had suggested a warm bath and some tea would make her feel better. For once, she had not argued with him.

_Angel is searching for me._ She couldn't wrap her brain around this thought. She knew it meant something significant, but she was afraid to know what that something was. She placed her hand under the showerhead and watched the spray dissipate into the air. _Angel is searching for me. Angel is searching. For me._

* * *

Angel smelled her unique scent as soon as he entered the mansion's courtyard. He burst into the great room and startled a sleeping Wesley. "Where is she?" the vampire growled and swept the room for any sign of Buffy.

Wesley didn't answer him immediately. This lack of response was Angel's cue to aggressively advance on the man. Wesley pressed himself further into his chair and put his hands in front of him to ward off the impending attack.

 "Answer me, Wesley, where is she?" Angel did not have time to play games. He grabbed the ex-Watcher's shirt and pulled him off the couch. Wesley's feet dangled in the air. Angel leaned closer, switched to his game face, and growled low in his chest. Wesley stared him down for the second time that night. "Put me down," he said authoritatively. Angel lowered him to the chair and moved to the fireplace. It was difficult to say who was more surprised: Angel because he had obeyed Wesley or Wesley because Angel had actually listened to him.

The ex-Watcher and the vampire glared at each other until Angel finally choked out, "Sorry." Wesley gazed at the demon in front of him and made a decision. "I think she has a concussion, and she needs stitches for several injuries. She's disoriented and exhausted, but she's a Slayer so she'll recover shortly. She found Giles' body. Oz and I told her about the others. I also told her about the Hellmouth opening. I think I can safely say that Buffy is in shock. I suggested she take a bath and … "

Angel just stared at Wesley. What had happened to the prissy and self-centered man he'd been avoiding all these months? Normally, Wesley would have withheld any information about the Slayer from the vampire. Angel had seen plenty of "deathbed conversions" when he had been the Scourge of Europe. Was that the explanation? _Does it matter? I need to see Buffy now._ With that thought, Angel began to move out of the great room.

Wesley knew where he was going. "Angel, wait, you need to know—" The vampire was no longer listening. He could sense her in the mansion, and he needed to see her, touch her, taste her. "Angel, wait," Wesley tried to get his attention. "Your curse­--," he started to say.

"I know all about my curse," spat Angel. He was not going to have this conversation with Wesley of all people.

 "Your curse--," began Wesley again. Angel whirled around and stalked towards the ex-Watcher. "My curse is not up for discussion."

 "ANGELUS! STOP AND LISTEN TO ME!" Angel halted and waited. Wesley shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. Then he focused on the hulking vampire in front of him. What he was about to say could irrevocably change everyone's future, and he had no inkling if it would be for the better or worse. "When you were poisoned earlier, I contacted the Council. They were not amenable to helping you since they are not in the business of saving vampires." Wesley chose to ignore Angel's smirk. "They did say, however, that 'Angelus was no longer a threat`. I thought at the time that meant you would not recover. But I've been thinking about it, and now I think…" He didn't finish the thought.

Angel knelt in front of the fire. "You think the curse is no longer an issue," Angel finished the sentence. He added another log and stirred the embers. Soon the fire was crackling and roaring. "Did you tell Buffy?" he asked at last. "I thought, perhaps, you should tell her." Wesley answered.

 "What if you're wrong?" Buffy had already lost so much today, if she had to kill Angelus too, she would not live beyond his death. _But, what if Wesley was right? After everything that had happened, what did this mean for him and Buffy?_

Above his head, hot and cold water moved through the pipes and a voice hummed an old Irish song. Angel turned his back to the fire. Wesley watched as fear, doubt, guilt, and finally love passed over the vampire's human face. Angel stood and handed Wesley the blanket that had fallen to the floor and out of the ex-Watcher's reach. Then, silently, he walked out of the great room, climbed the stairs, and stood before the bathroom door. 


	6. Chapter 6

Angel leaned his head on the bathroom door and tried to stop the swirl of emotions and words that raced through him. _She's alive! She's alive and on the other side of this door_. This ecstatic thought was followed with a more sobering one. _Do I have any right to go in there? She's lost so much today. Am I just going to make it worse? _Angel was swiftly descending into a trademark brood session. _If she'd been at full strength… I'll just make sure she's okay. What if she doesn't want to see me? _His unspoken fear that he would hurt Buffy again was overpowered by his more basic desire to be with her. _I need to see her, touch her, feel her in my arms. _He could hear noises in the bathroom as she moved around. He could smell shampoo and soap. He could… he nearly fell into the bathroom when Buffy opened the door.

 "I figured if I waited for you to open the door, I'd have to dye the grey in my hair," she griped. She looked terrible. Her hair was dirty and matted with blood. Her clothing was ripped and filthy. "Buffy! You're alive!" It was an idiotic thing for him to say, but she was incredibly alive. He wanted to take her in his arms and hold her and yell at her for not being here sooner and _God, she's alive!_ He didn't know what else to say or do. 

They stood in the threshold and stared at each other. What Buffy really wanted was to have Angel hold her. In his arms she could forget the awfulness of the past hours. But, she was more afraid that Angel would walk away from her again. She couldn't accept that kind of rejection right now; she could barely manage the conflicting emotions Angel always stirred in her. They hadn't really talked since their breakup in the sewer. She didn't know what to expect from him here and now.

Angel blinked first. His thumb brushed away the lone tear traveling down her cheek. A sob hitched in Buffy's throat, and she moved into his arms burying her head into his chest. She cried and screamed with grief and frustration until she was finally silent. Angel just held her and stroked her back in lazy circles. When she lifted her face to look at him, he drowned anew in her eyes. His mouth descended to her lips and brushed a soft kiss on them.

"Angel," she breathed and parted her lips so his tongue could sweep the inside of her mouth. _Is the world spinning because he's kissing me or is the world just spinning?_ She suddenly felt nauseous. "Angel?" she said again. He recognized the note of panic in her voice. He looked at her unfocussed eyes. "Buffy, you need to sit down."

* * *

He checked the temperature of the shower and turned his back while she took off her clothes and got in. When he turned around, he could see her silhouette through the shower curtain. "You're not talking," he chided. She had all the signs of a concussion, but she still desperately wanted to be clean. The compromise had been for him to stay in the bathroom while she showered. Her part of the compromise was to talk. Buffy told Angel everything: her shock at finding at Giles, her fear that her mother was dead or worse, her absolute horror at the brutalities inflicted on Sunnydale's residents. The ordinariness of shampooing her hair and washing her body made it easier for Buffy to articulate her feelings. The only thing she couldn't talk about was what had happened between them.

She turned off the shower and stuck her hand out for the towel. Her body was covered in bruises and cuts, but she was clean and that lifted her spirits. She waved her hand in the air. "Angel, I need a towel." He chuckled. "Did you bring one?"

"No," she answered, "you have towels."

"I had towels. Oz used them to clean the van earlier tonight. I might have a dishtowel. Somehow, I don't think that'll be big enough." Buffy could just picture Angel's smirking face. She had an overwhelming urge to hit him. 

"So, what, I'm supposed to drip dry?" He couldn't resist. "Well, it'll reduce the wrinkles." Her head appeared around the edge of the shower curtain and she fixed him with a Slayer stare. "I'll see what I can find," mumbled Angel as he exited the bathroom.

He returned with a blanket and one of his silk shirts. Buffy looked dubiously at the blanket that he had torn in half. "That's all you could find?" she asked. Angel looked at the blanket. It was clean and it was soft. What else did she want? _Men, _Buffy sighed in exasperation and took the wanna-be towel from Angel. She dried her body and warned Angel that she was getting out of the shower. When she pulled back the curtain and stepped out, she was surprised to see him staring at her. _Good thing I wrapped the blanket around me. I look like one of Hannibal Lector's victims under here._

 "Wesley said he thought you might need stitches. I brought tape and bandages." Angel waited expectantly. "I'm – I'm okay. That Slayer healing thing," she babbled back. Angel still didn't turn away. "Is that for me to wear?" she indicated the shirt with her head. The vampire suddenly realized that she was speaking to him. He'd been thinking about what her body looked like under that blanket. _If I don't leave now, I'm gonna take her right here on the floor and to hell with the consequences._ "I'll let you get dressed. There's some lotion in the cabinet. Sorry, I don't have a dryer." He hurriedly left closing the door firmly behind him. Buffy was sure that she'd just seen Angel run out of the bathroom. _I'm confused; he's confused. So, why can't we be confused together?_

* * *

The bath was nice. What she really wanted now was sleep. She headed for the bed in Angel's room. She hadn't expected to find him there. A part of her did not want to acknowledge the awkwardness between them. Another part of her, the part that had absorbed the last twenty-four hours, knew it was there and ignored it anyway.

He was changing the bed linens. He smiled at her as she walked in. "I thought you might want to sleep. Are you cold? I think I've got an extra blanket somewhere. Would you like some hot tea? Have you eaten anything? I've got some food. I can make a fire in here if you want." She smiled back at him. Her vampire was babbling nervously. She walked up to him and put a finger on his lips to stop the torrent of words spilling out of his mouth. 

"Shhhh. I'm fine. I just want to sleep." 

"Oh," he replied sheepishly. "Okay. Well, if you need anything, just call. I'll be in the great room." He left before she could say or do anything to change his mind.

Buffy lay down on Angel's bed. The sheets and pillowcases were clean and smelled faintly of laundry soap. She looked at the dirty bed linen piled on the floor at the bottom of the bed, sighed, and got up. She pawed through the bed sheets until she found a pillowcase. She held it to her face and breathed in Angel. She quickly switched the clean pillowcase for the dirty one and lay back down. She stared at the ceiling. She stared at the walls. She tossed. She fidgeted. She tried one of the soothing meditating exercises Giles had taught her. Nothing worked. She couldn't get to sleep. When she closed her eyes, she saw bodies, blood, death.

Angel heard her footsteps as she got out bed and headed for the stairs. He raced up the stairs so quickly he bumped into her. Tears were pooling in her eyes. "What's wrong?" he asked gently, "Tell me what I can do." _How about holding me until I go to sleep?_ He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. _Or maybe you could just hold my hand and talk to me?_ He lifted her into his arms and carried her back to bed. _I'll even take a good night kiss and a promise that you'll be here when I wake up._ He pulled the covers up to her chin and kissed her forehead. "Try and get some sleep, Buffy." He turned to leave the room. She stopped him with a single word, his name, surrounded with fear and love and need.

"Stay with me. Please." 


	7. Chapter 7

AUTHOR'S NOTES:  The original NC-17 version of this chapter is available at my website Yseult's Passion (http://yseultspassion.com)

* * *

When he thought about it several hours later, there was never any question about whether or not he was staying. It was the "Please" that clinched it. That and the sight of his lover clinging emotionally to the last bit of sensible freakiness in her life.

In one fluid motion, he crossed the floor and pulled his shirt over his head. He towered over her for a moment and silently asked her if this was what she wanted. Then he closed his eyes and sank into her embrace.

Angel held Buffy so tightly she squeaked in pain. "Sorry," he said, "I just …" He kissed her tenderly. "It doesn't matter," she whispered. "Just stay until I go to sleep." _You can leave after that._

She made room for him on the bed. He slipped beneath the covers and reached for her. Her head found that niche in his shoulder that belonged only to her. She wrapped one arm around his waist and closed her eyes. He held her close, one hand running lightly up and down her arm while the other played with her hair. One of her legs entwined around one of his. Her breathing slowed, and she finally fell asleep.

It had been days since he'd last seen her asleep. After the breakup, he had stayed away from her to minimize the hurt for both of them. Each night, he had battled the desire to climb to her bedroom window and watch over her as she slept. He placed soft kisses along her hairline and the top of her head. She sighed as she drifted deeper into sleep and vaguely heard him say, "I will always love you."

* * *

Buffy awoke an hour later because someone was using a jackhammer in her ear. It took her a moment to realize that the sound was coming from a purring Angel. Then her brain kicked into overdrive. _I'm in bed with Angel. I'm in bed with Angel and he has no shirt on and I only have a shirt on. This is a big no-no._ She tried to move out of his embrace, but he wouldn't loosen his grip. "Where are you going?" he whispered.

She wriggled some more as she said, "The other side of the bed, if you'll let go of me." He released her and she rolled away from him. Angel spooned his body to hers and ran a hand down the length of her body. Buffy shivered at his touch. _What the hell is he doing? _Angel nuzzled her neck and ears. She could feel his erection pressing into her back. _Has he totally lost it? We need to stop._

"Angel, stop. We can't do this." Buffy hated to say the words. The last time he'd touched her like this, she was seventeen. She couldn't kill him again. She would die first._ Or I could just die right here from his unbelievable touch._ She audibly gulped as his hand traveled back up her body and underneath the silk shirt that separated them. His hand rested on her hip as he pulled her closer and ground his arousal against her back. "Buffy," he breathed in her ear.

She rolled in his embrace, put her hands against his chest, and pushed him away. "Angel! What are you doing?" He gazed at her with lust- and love-filled eyes. "What you want me to do," he replied and moved his hand from her hip to her waist.

His answer shocked her. _Where is this coming from?_ "Okay, mister, I know I was hit on the head. What's your excuse?" The sarcasm in her voice momentarily stopped him. "What?" He was lost. _What is she talking about?_

"Hello, earth to Angel. Is anybody in there? Don't give me that innocent look. We can't do whatever we're about to do. You do remember that?" She was getting annoyed. _What the hell was wrong with him?_

Angel smiled at her and kissed her so deeply and thoroughly she shook from its effects. "Trust me," he whispered against her swollen lips. "Angelus --" she said and was swept up in another heady kiss. "Trust me," he said again. She pulled her head back so that she could see into his eyes. Love and desire stared back at her.

"I trust you," she said quietly and guided his head to the mark on her neck. 

* * *

He slowly undid the buttons on the shirt and pushed it off her shoulders. His hands freely roamed her body for the first time since that fateful night. He touched every inch of her skin, his tongue following his hands as they felt each cut and scar on her body. This was carnal worship in its purest form. He had only done this once before and that memory had sustained him through the years in Hell.

Her breasts were fuller than he remembered, but they tasted the same. He circled each breast slowly, deliciously avoiding the erect pink nipples that beckoned him. Buffy mewled, "More, Angel." He obliged and she was left breathless by the orgasm that overtook her. She shuddered against Angel's chest. 

"Are you sure?" she asked. Angel placed her hands on the waistband of his pants. Together, they pushed his pants off.

* * *

Angel lay on his back and let Buffy explore his body. She was intimately acquainted with his chest. But she'd hardly seen the rest of him. The night he took her virginity she had been too afraid and awed to do much more than follow his lead. This time she wanted to please him as much as he pleased her. She tentatively touched him and his body moved in response. "Is it supposed to do that?" The question was out of her mouth before she realized it. Angel laughed as much at her question as at the blush spreading over her face. "Yes."

Her hand delicately closed around the shaft, and he took an unneeded breath. "See," she said coyly, "two can play at this game." She moved her hand up and down. Angel bucked his hips on the bed.

The next thing she knew she was underneath a very heavy and determined vampire. "If you don't want this, tell me and I'll stop. No matter what." Angel hoarsely spoke these words as he searched Buffy's face for any sign of denial. He hovered above her, his weight supported on his hands.

She cupped his face in her hands. "I've only ever wanted you, Angel. Always. Forever." She felt a cool touch between her legs as he ascertained if she was ready for him. Then another cool pressure followed by a feeling of completeness. Angel hesitated once he was inside her. She was still incredibly tight; she needed time to adjust to his size. When he judged she was ready, he set a slow rhythmic pace. If he could freeze time, this is the moment he would choose: buried deep in his lover as she lay beneath him. Their lovemaking quickened as they lost themselves in their passion. Angel timed it so they both climaxed at the same time. Buffy's moan echoed through the mansion followed by Angel's inhuman growl.

Downstairs, Wesley looked up at the ceiling and smiled. 


	8. Chapter 8

Oz stood in the entrance to the mansion's courtyard and sipped his hot foul-tasting coffee. The rainy night had lifted to reveal a gloomy dawn. A light breeze blew fine pieces of soot and scraps of paper danced like dervishes. The air held the acrid odor of burning flesh. Oz decided not to speculate on the specifics of that fact.

Instead he was mentally playing yesterday on an endless loop, frame by agonizing frame. Willow researching in the library. Pause. Willow loading supplies in the van. Pause. Willow in his arms, her face flushed with sexual pleasure. Pause. Willow slipping into her seat at Graduation. Pause. Willow on her knees, a vampire at her neck. Pause. Willow dead. Stop. Rewind. Willow researching in the library. Pause. Willow loading supplies in the van. Pause. 

Oz had slept fitfully excluding the interruptions of Buffy, then Angel, and finally Buffy and Angel together. The last interruption had prompted him to crawl out of the semi-comfortable bed and assume a sentry position in the hallway outside of Angel's room. Buffy had tripped over his sleeping body on her way to the bathroom. She had gently cupped his cheek as she pulled the stake out of his clenched hands.

"It's all right," she had whispered. "He's all right. Go back to bed."

Oz had been somewhat skeptical. "You sure? Cuz, if it's a choice between your homicidal boyfriend and the apocalyptic Mayor, I want the Mayor to kill me. Your boyfriend's got this thing about torture."

He had meant to make her smile. Instead, Buffy had begun to cry. Large salty tears silently rolled down her cheeks and splashed onto the silk shirt she was wearing. Oz's instinct was to envelope her in a comforting hug. At the last moment, his brain had processed some key information: _she's just wearing Angel's shirt._

Buffy and Oz had locked gazes as the same thought occurred to the Slayer. "Hugging would not be a good idea," she had admitted with a smile. "My 'homicidal boyfriend' is the jealous type even when he's not the Scourge of Europe." She had giggled and pecked her friend on the cheek before continuing to the bathroom.

Oz had returned to his bed and pulled the covers over his head. He had eventually fallen asleep only to awaken an hour later. Something furry had tickled his face. His first thought had been _This doesn't smell like Willow's hair._ His second, and more coherent, thought was _Angel has rats?_ His third, and most sobering, thought was _Oh, no, I'm changing again._

He had scrambled out of bed in a blind panic and tripped on one of its legs when he turned the lamp on. In the light he could see the fur on his arms and elongated nails. He touched his face and felt the whiskers that had partially sprouted. His transformation from human to werewolf was incomplete. For whatever reason, he was only half a werewolf _or half a human_. 

He had walked into the great room to ask Wesley for a theory. The ex-Watcher was still sitting on the couch staring into the fire. Oz had moved into his line of vision, but Wesley didn't blink or otherwise acknowledge that someone was obstructing his view. As the teenager drew closer, he realized why. Wesley had died sometime during the night. His body was cold.

Oz had closed Wesley's eyes and entered the kitchen. What he really wanted was some alcohol but Angel had steadfastly refused to get any the night before. So Oz made a large pot of bad coffee, poured himself a cup, and watched the black rain fall from the sky. Eventually he would have to inform Buffy and Angel that someone else was dead. Right now, he just needed to breathe.

* * *

Angel pulled on his pants and grabbed a shirt when he heard Oz's soft knock on the door. He silently opened the door and stepped into the hallway. He was shocked by the teenager's physical appearance. 

"Wesley's dead. You should probably tell Buffy." There was something about speaking the words that made the ex-Watcher's death seem more final to Oz. He took another sip of his coffee.

"How much of that stuff have you had?" Angel wrinkled his nose at the formidable smell.

"Not enough, apparently," said Oz. "It still tastes okay." His wry comment was met with a quizzical smile from the vampire. "Translation: my stomach doesn't have any holes in it."

"Yet," rejoined Angel. "I'll wake Buffy. We'll be down in a little while."

* * *

When Angel opened the door, he found a panic-stricken Buffy sobbing hysterically in his bed. _She couldn't have heard us through the door_. In a flash he crossed the room and pulled her into his arms.

"What's wrong? What happened?" he repeated the words in a soothing voice as he stroked her hair. Something had scared her. _A nightmare? Memories of yesterday?_

"You. You. You. You weren't. You weren't here. I. I. I woke up. And you. You weren't here. Like. Like last. Last time. And. And. And it's raining." She hiccupped the words. _Try a nightmare and memories_. He could've sworn she was deeply asleep. Angel had not wanted her to wake alone again. He tried to calm her by rocking her and planting soft kisses over her face and hair. Nothing helped. If she didn't stop soon, she was going to be sick.

Angel didn't have a choice. He slapped his lover hard across her face. Her crying ceased abruptly. She backed off the bed, pulling the sheet with her, horror etched in her face.

"You promised," she whispered hoarsely. "You told me to trust you. You promised it would be alright." She searched frantically for a piece of wood, a weapon, anything to protect herself. As she backed into the wall, her shoulder bumped a painting. She ripped the canvas from its frame. Then she broke the frame to make a primitive stake. "Don't come near me. Don't even speak to me."

"Buffy, I'm not Angelus," Angel pleaded. _Please believe me._ "You were hysterical. I didn't hit you because I'm him. I just… You needed to calm down." He remained on the bed with his hands out in plain view. Buffy was clearly in shock. Still, with her bed-tousled hair and form-fitting bedsheet, she was also incredibly attractive. Angel unsuccessfully stifled his growl of desire and lust as his eyes swept up and down her body. His features shifted unconsciously. _Trust me. _He saw the determination in her eyes right before she threw the stake.


	9. Chapter 9

The stake flew through the air towards Angel's heart. Despite her battered psyche, Buffy was still The Slayer. Even at the distance of 30 feet her aim was accurate. Fortunately, Slayer blood flowed through the vampire's body and sharpened his reflexes. The stake embedded itself in the wall behind him. Buffy yelled in frustration and gathered up the bedsheet. _Can I make it to the door before he climbs over the bed?_

The answer was a resounding no. Angel tackled her to the floor and pinned her with the weight of his body. She wriggled beneath him in an unconscious imitation of Faith. Her legs were tangled in the sheet; her hands beat uselessly on his back.

"Stop squirming," a chilling voice commanded in her ear. Buffy froze. _Oh God. Ohgodohgodohgod._ He was nuzzling her threat, breathing her scent, licking at the wound he had made. His hands swept down her body. "I'm not Angelus," he whispered in her ear before he sucked an earlobe into his mouth. "I'm not Angelus," he repeated. "But I want you as much as he ever did." His mouth moved to hers and devoured it completely in a rough passion-tinged kiss that left her lips bloody.

"Get off of me." Buffy punched him in the jaw with enough force to make his ears ring. She drew back to hit him again. He caught her wrist in a vice-like grip and squeezed until she cried out in pain.

"Buffy, please. Don't. Fight. Me. You'll lose." Angel released her arm and rolled off her. He stood and walked to the dresser where he found some clothes for her. "Get dressed," he ordered with his back to her. "Get dressed before I take you on the floor like Angelus wants." He slammed the door behind him as his howl of frustrated desire shook the floorboards.

* * *

Buffy hesitantly made her way to the kitchen and walked into a surreal tableau. An obviously dead Wesley was propped in a chair. A half werewolf/half human Oz was nonchalantly drinking what smelled like really bad strong coffee. A vampire in gameface was growling and pouring milk into a bowl of her favourite cereal. The whole scene was just a little "off".

She took it all in for a long minute before she spoke. "Okay. Now this is more than the usual freakiness that passes for life in Sunnydale. What gives?"

Angel set her bowl on the table and rummaged in the drawer for a spoon. Oz poured a cup of coffee for Buffy, another for himself, and one for Angel

"Whoa. Stop. Coffee makes him jittery." Oz gave Buffy a classic Oz look. 

"I don't think 'jittery' is my problem today, Buffy," Angel said before downing the vile contents of his cup. "I'm thinking it might be 'psycho'." He leered at her through his fangs.

"Or possibly 'dead'," added Oz. "More coffee?"

The four of them sat around the table staring at their hands, the utensils, anything but each other. A dead ex-Watcher, an undead vampire, a werewolf, a Slayer. Except for the slurping of coffee or cereal, there was an eerie silence.

Angel battled his body for control of the demon. He didn't speak again until his facial ridges had disappeared and his fangs had retracted. Then he broke the tension. "The Hellmouth is opening. Oz and I can feel its pull. That's why he's half werewolf and I'm—"

"Doing your best Angelus impression?" queried Buffy somewhat snidely. She flinched when his hand covered hers. 

"I'm sorry about earlier, Buffy. I'm trying to keep him reined in as much as I can. But the more the Hellmouth opens, the more the demon wants out." Angel rose from his chair and squatted at her feet so he could hold her hands in his. She looked deep into his eyes searching for the monster housed in his body. Angel's eyes flickered quickly from brown to yellow to brown again. If she had blinked, she would have missed it.

"So last night was what exactly?" Her voice quivered as she asked this terrible question. She did not want to have this conversation with him; she needed his reassurance that her sex life was not destined to be a universal joke. Angel smoothed a strand of her hair behind one ear and allowed his fingers to follow the contour of her jaw. The world was reduced to him and her. The Mayor, the Hellmouth, even Oz were forgotten.

"Last night was me, Angel, worshipping you, Buffy, as a man loves a woman." He lifted her chin and gave her a deep kiss. When he broke it off, he saw the tears pooling in her eyes. _It really is Angel and not a dream._ She shook her head to clear the tears. "And this morning?" she demanded.

_This morning_. Angel sighed. _How do I explain that this morning she looked so desirable that I wanted her even without Angelus or the Hellmouth goading me?_ His lover was still a very inexperienced teenager. She had no concept of the power of her sexuality. 

"This morning was still about a man and a woman." Her face scrunched up as she processed this sentence and couldn't. "Hunh?" Angel smiled at her ignorance and tried to phrase his explanation without offending her.

"You looked sexy. He's a sexy undead guy. He just kind of went with it." This very Xander-like statement came from Oz in a bored monotone. Angel and Buffy turned to him with their mouths gaping. "I'm thinking I should probably stop drinking the coffee," Oz noted to himself.

* * *

They were in the great room surrounded by books. In one of these tomes Wesley had found a spell that required a Slayer. Buffy had remembered that tidbit of information while Oz had been washing the dishes. They had decamped back to the great room to search for "a big ugly green book" with a damaged cover. Once again, the books had been divided into three orderly stacks. This time the piles were "not big green books", "big green books", and "not the big green book we need".

"Hey," said Oz looking up from the book he was browsing. "I think that coffee's paying off. Didn't Willow do a binding spell the last time the Hellmouth opened?"

"Yeah, she did," said Buffy. "It's probably in one of these books here somewhere." She gestured at the floor. "Aren't we looking for a binding spell?"

"Nah," said Oz. "We're looking for the sealing spell. The binding spell will keep the Hellmouth beasties from eating you while you seal the Hellmouth." He smiled triumphantly. "And I know just where that book is." The book was in Willow's house _in Willow's room under Willow's bed where it landed when we… _The smile was replaced with a stoic look.

Buffy moved quietly to Oz's side. "You don't have to get it," she said softly. "I can go."

Oz thought about that. Going to Willow's house last night had been tough. Buffy was her best friend, but he just didn't want anyone else touching Willow's things. He wiped a sleeve across his face. "I'm good to go." He looked at his fur-covered hands. "Not like anyone's going to be around to notice me."

He grabbed his jacket and then stopped. "Angel, can I talk to you for a minute?" Buffy and Angel exchanged puzzled glances. After a couple of minutes of furtive whispering and a gentlemanly handshake, Oz left.

"What was that all about?" asked Buffy. She had rolled up the sleeves of Angel's shirt to reveal toned arms with an ugly bruise on one wrist. She lay on her stomach on the floor idly flipping pages while she waited for Angel to join her.

Angel grinned wickedly. "I'll never tell," he said and scooped her off the floor.

"Hey, we've got an end of the world thingy happening here. We do not have time to fool around." She giggled as she said this and tried to make her face look stern. "Angel, put me down."

"No," he replied and suddenly released his hold on her. She landed on the couch where she was swiftly covered by a cold vampire.

"You're warm," he teased as he unbuttoned her shirt and danced his fingers across her breasts and belly. "I could get used to the taste of a Slayer." 

Somewhere in that sentence Angelus had come out to play. 


	10. Chapter 10

_AUTHOR'S NOTE (1): The original version (NC-17) is available on my website (http://yseultspassion.com).  
AUTHOR'S NOTE (2): Characters' thoughts are in italics._

* * *

Oz sat on Willow's bed and stared at the wreckage of her room. Whatever had stampeded through here had not been interested in books. Oz pawed through the confused contents and paused when he saw the Pez dispenser. He could still see the excited look on Willow's face when he had given it to her. _Willow_. There was a horrible ache in his heart. If she hadn't died, he would never have known how deeply he loved her. Oz lay on the bed and inhaled the aroma of perspiration and bodily fluids from their night of lovemaking. _I love you, Willow_. 

Eventually he sat up. _Book_. He looked under the bed. Yep. Right where I thought. He gathered up the book and Willow's pink fuzzy sweater. He slipped the Pez dispenser into his pocket. The house swayed as a strong tremor rippled through the earth. _Time to be gone_. He spotted a photo taken at the Prom and added that to the pile in his arms.

* * *

When he walked back into the mansion, he was surprised to see the great room resembled Willow's room. Books were scattered, furniture was upturned or broken, and blood stained the floor. _Something happened here._

"Buffy? Angel?" 

The Slayer walked out of the kitchen with an icepack pressed to her face. She ignored his questioning look and pointed to the bag he was holding. "Did you get it?" she asked.

"Yeah," replied Oz. Buffy had moved the icepack while she spoke. Oz could see the bruise covering her left eye and cheek. "Who lost?" His casual gaze didn't fool her for one minute.

"I'm fine," she shrugged. She didn't want to talk about it. Oz took the hint. 

He pulled the spellbook out of the bag and turned the pages. "Here. I'm pretty sure this is the spell Willow used last time." He handed the book to Buffy She read through the listed ingredients and ticked them off in her head. "I grabbed her stash of newts' eyes and frogs' legs and other tasty tidbits," Oz continued. "Between this and Giles' stuff, we should be covered."

Buffy nodded. She glimpsed Willow's sweater peeking out of the bag and touched it. Oz covered her hand with his. "I'm sorry," whispered Buffy. "I'm so sorry. I knew everyone wasn't going to make it, but I never thought…" She began to cry again. _It's too much. Too many people. I can't do this_. Oz awkwardly rubbed her back; Buffy winced in pain and moved out of his embrace. She walked into the courtyard.

"Oz? Was Wesley already dead when you found him?" she called. The ex-Watcher's body was laying on the cold ground and covered with a sheet. Angel had moved him there earlier.

"Yeah." Oz replied from the great room where he was clearing a space to spread out the ingredients. "Why?"

"Did you know he's got two itty bitty holes in his neck?" There was silence in the great room broken by a mumbled "Oh. Not good." Buffy completely agreed with the standard Oz non-reaction. 

* * *

Angel prowled the streets of Sunnydale. He was supposed to be on his way to Willy's, but he'd been sidetracked by some of the Mayor's lackeys. He'd managed to squeeze some information out of one unfortunate peon before it was "accidentally" dismembered. Now he was heading to City Hall.

As he walked, he replayed the last two hours. Angel's tenuous hold on the demon had been shattered. The Hellmouth's shenanigans and a semi-nude Slayer had finally serenaded Angelus out of his cell. For twelve very long minutes, Buffy had had to face down a monster intent on rape and murder. Angelus had nearly won. By the time Buffy threw him into the fire, she had bite marks on her breasts and handprints on her thighs. She also had a scar in her groin that matched the one on her neck. Angelus had arrogantly stamped her as his possession.

The flames had scorched the vampire but given Angel a fleeting chance to shove Angelus back into his jail. When he felt like he was back in the driver's seat, Angel had lifted his head and stared into the battered face of his lover. Buffy sat naked against the far wall clutching a stake in her hands.

Angel had picked up Wesley's bloodstained blanket and begun to move towards her. He had approached her slowly, speaking in a soft reassuring voice, and not wiping the tears that flowed from his eyes. Buffy was in shock or worse. He had done this. He had put Buffy in danger because he loved her absolutely. 

She silently chanted his name as he drew closer. When he leaned forward to cover, she had screamed "Angelus" and driven the stake into his chest. Luckily for him, she had missed his heart. 

The vampire absently rubbed the healing wound on his chest. He could still taste the blood he had taken from her. Her scent was on his skin where his face had burrowed between her legs seeking her life and her sex. In an ironic twist, it was the action of staking Angel that shoved Buffy back into reality. She had swiftly pulled the stake from his chest and looked at him in horror as she tried to cover the hole with her small hand.

"Angel?" She had cradled his head in her lap and gently stroked his face with her fingers. "Angel?"

He could have said a thousand different things that would have made a tense situation worse. Instead he had simply choked out, "Your aim's off," before rolling onto his side in a fit of painful coughing.

She rubbed his back until he was still. Then she asked him how long it would take for him to recover.

"A couple of days," Angel had replied. "How long will it take for you?" _And how much longer after that until you trust me again?_

Her answer was a flash of the Slayer he knew and loved. "At the rate of your Jekyll and Hyde routine? My whole life or my whole life depending on who I'm dealing with." She sighed heavily. "Angel, if you're gonna heal, you need to feed. I don't think I have the strength to move that far," she added wearily. "Besides, Wesley's creeping me out."

Buffy leaned back against the wall and hesitantly opened her legs so that they formed a V around his head and chest. "Take what you need," she commanded softly.

"No." He had tried to push her away. Her legs closed around him like a steel trap.

"Angel, don't make me force you again. I promise, my aim won't be off." She smiled sadly. "I can't stop this unless you help me. I need you to be whole."

He had lain silently, cradled by her legs, while he considered the wrongness of this idea. He turned it every way in his mind looking for some alternative. There was none; there was also no blood left in the fridge. He had finished it at breakfast. It truly was Buffy or nothing. He didn't want to know how she had managed to find the strength to offer herself again.

"Buffy, I don't want to do this," he whispered before he kissed the bruises on her thighs and traced the wound at her groin. His hands roamed over her abdomen; his fingers twirled the patch of hair at the apex of her legs.

"Shhhhh, Angel, I know. It's okay," she whispered in return as she felt his tears brush over her skin.

He lifted his head and rested his chin on her hip. "It'll hurt less if you lie down." Buffy shifted her body so that she lay on the floor. She lifted her hips as he slid his hands under her buttocks and pulled her closer to his mouth. Buffy tensed as she waited for his fangs to painfully tear again into the artery in her groin. Angel swallowed a few mouthfuls of her healing blood and licked the wound closed. This bite wasn't as deep as the one on her neck, but the demon in him knew the scar would last as long because it was made twice.

When they finally sat up, they exchanged guilty looks at the mess. Angel had sent Buffy to shower while he scrounged clothes for her. When he had showered, he joined her in the kitchen.

"Can we move Wesley?" Buffy had asked as she drank a diet soda. "I'm getting some bad vibes off him. Also? He smells."

Angel lifted Wesley's body out of the chair and carried him to the courtyard. He was covering it with a sheet when he noticed the puncture marks on the throat. When he showed them to Buffy, she silented handed him a stake and went back into the mansion.

He found her staring at the fire. "Somebody knows we're here," said Buffy. "This wasn't a random killing. If it was, they would've gone after Oz. He was in the next room and probably even tastier." She wrapped her arms around her body and shivered in spite of the fire's heat.

"I agree." Angel slipped his arms around his lover. She turned in his embrace. "Buffy, I'm not the only nonhuman feeling the power of the Hellmouth. Maybe we can use that." He lifted her chin and kissed her deeply. "It's dark enough for me to walk around," he whispered against her lips. "I could maybe find out what the Mayor's doing next." He felt her stiffen in his arms. 

"You mean," she had mumbled into his chest, "you could be Angelus." He had rubbed her back, smoothed her hair, and wisely kept silent. "Sure. Why not? We need to know what's going on. But if you get killed, I'm gonna find a spell that'll bring you back so I can dust you myself." She had hugged him tightly, then abruptly let him go, and resolutely marched into the kitchen.

Angel stood in front of what used to be City Hall. The building was destroyed just like the surrounding structures. His vampiric senses couldn't hear, see, or smell anything moving. _The Mayor's gotta be here somewhere. He's a big snake. Not too many places to hide when you're that big._

He did another sweep and still found nothing. Then he realized that was the clue. There was nothing. No sounds, no smells, no colours where there should be sounds, smells, colours. It was as if everything had been sucked into a vacuum. Except for the demon that was bellowing loudly in his body and a nagging voice in his head. Both were saying the same thing: time is running out.


	11. Chapter 11

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: Characters' thoughts are in italics._

* * *

"Let's make sure we got everything," said Buffy and glanced at the two bags. "Spell?"

"Check," replied Oz and waved a sheet of paper. "One binding spell." 

"And I've got the sealing spell." She put the paper in a bag. "Candles?" She counted the candles on the floor in front of her. "I've got nine: three white, three red, and three orange. You're supposed to have seven."

Oz quickly counted his candles. "Present. Also the pig testes." He grimaced as he carefully held up the item. "I feel kinda sorry for the pig."

Buffy looked at him in amusement. "Males and their manly parts!" She gathered several plastics bags. "Smelly herbs and stinky herbs. And look, there's even room for weapons."

Oz held up two plastic bags. "We're a go for smelly and stinky."

The blonde-haired girl wrinkled her nose. "Remind me. What's the difference between a smelly herb and a stinky herb?"

Oz raised an eyebrow. "One's smelly and one's supersmelly?" He shrugged. "I dunno. Weren't you and Giles one with the herbs a while ago?" He itched the whiskers on his face.

"Well, yeah, but … my job is to slay. That's what I'm good for. Willow and Giles are the ones who—" aren't here. Buffy sat down heavily on the floor and felt the tears well in her eyes. Not crying. No more crying. I will not cry. She buried her head in her hands.

"Hey," whispered Oz as he sat beside her. He put one arm around her shoulders.

"I'm okay," said Buffy as she lifted her head. "I'm just…"

"Dealing? Adjusting? Existing? Being?" Oz deadpanned rapidly.

"I was gonna go with 'here', but now I'm leaning towards 'all of the above." Buffy wiped the tear streaks from her face and kissed Oz on the cheek. "In case I don't get the chance later, thank you. You made Will so happy. And that made me happy. And well, just for everything. Thank you."

Oz nodded his head. "You're welcome."

* * *

  
They sat in two broken chairs in the courtyard. Wesley's body was out of sight. 

"So, assuming we do the deed, what are your plans for after?" Oz casually tossed out the question as he sharpened a stake and added it to the pile between them.

Buffy shrugged. "Well, it was UC Sunnydale. But well, no Sunnydale. Think Northwestern will still take me?" She examined the stake in her hand. Still too long.

"Did you already tell them no? If you haven't, you could probably still go. Your dad'll pay, won't he?" Oz selected another piece of wood.

"Money. Hadn't thought about." Too busy thinking about actually living. "I guess he'll pay. Although I don't know how I'll explain Mom to him." I don't know if I can explain Mom to me. "What about you?"

"Music, I think. Maybe a roadie. Haven't really thought about it either. Kind of assumed college, Willow, Dingoes. What about you and Angel?"

Buffy was suddenly fascinated by the patterns on the wood in her hand. "Angel?" she squeaked. 

"Yeah. I thought that since you can do what you can do, you'd just do it."

The Slayer shot her friend a bewildered look. "Now, that was a Willow statement." She smiled to soften the blow.

"It was," he chuckled. "But I'm still not hearing an answer."

Buffy stared at her stake. I don't know about Angel. A wave of panic began to swell. They hadn't discussed "them" at all. For all she knew, he was still leaving. He hasn't said he's staying. "We haven't… There really hasn't been any time to… Who really knows what's going to happen?" she finally stammered.

Oz nodded his head sagely. "Might wanna shoot that elephant."

What? "Huh? What elephant? Nobody said anything about elephants. Big ugly snake, yes. Elephant, no. I would remember the part about the elephant." Buffy stood abruptly and dumped the half-finished stakes off her lap. She clenched her fists and was about to pace when Oz gently tugged her arm. She looked down at his face and saw a tentative smile.

"It's an expression. It means there's something really obvious that you're avoiding."

"Oh." She sat down deflatedly. "That elephant would be me and Angel and what happens next?"

"That would be the one." Oz offered Buffy one of the half-carved stakes.

* * *

When Angel entered the mansion, the great room had been cleared of debris. Several bags and knapsacks were piled neatly by the fireplace. He heard Buffy's voice from the courtyard.

"No way! Cordelia was a virgin? I don't believe it. Wait a minute. How do you know?"

The world's about to end and she's talking about Cordelia's virginity? Angel strode into the courtyard.

"I take it you found the spells and got all the stuff?" He addressed Buffy but gazed at Oz's wolf eyes, elongated teeth, and clawed hands. "I thought it was just me, but it's getting worse, isn't it?"

Oz glanced from Angel to Buffy then stood quickly. "I think I'll go be elsewhere." Angel watched curiously as he disappeared into the mansion.

"Worse?"

Angel turned his attention back to Buffy. "What worse?"

"You said 'It's getting worse.' What's getting worse? Cuz between the snake and the elephant and the money, I don' think I can do worse."

Angel stared at her as if she'd suddenly grown another head. Buffy self-consciously touched her hair. "Angel?"

He took a step towards her and searched her face for any sign of insanity. "Buffy, what are you talking about?"

She stepped back and took a steadying breath. "You said. 'It's getting worse.' What did you mean?"

Angel continued to scrutinize her as he answered. "Oz is hairier than when I left. And the demon in me is getting louder. I, uh, beheaded a vamp. With my hands." Buffy took another step back. Angel let the guilt rush over him. "Buffy, I'm sorry. I think you're gonna have to do this on your own. I don't know if I can keep Angelus away."

""I see." The words were spoken softly and regretfully. She raised one hand to her mouth and absently chewed her thumbnail. Her gaze fastened on a clump of flowers.

"Something else you should know." There always is. "The Mayor's gonna sacrifice the Hellmouth beast."

A hopeful spark flared in Buffy's eyes. "Works for me. One less thing to worry about."

"Actually it's one more thing. If he does, he gets all that power." Angel watched the hope leach out of her face.

"Next stop: world domination. Okay, I can deal. What if the beastie eats the Mayor?" She was stretching, begging for any piece of good news.

"Buffy, I don't think you want this thing coming out of the ground. If it completely emerges, you're never gonna beat it. And I don't think you should count on Oz and me to help." Her body collapsed against the fountain. Giles' voice echoed through her head. In every generation there is a Chosen One. She alone will stand against the vampires, the demons, and the forces of darkness. 

"One girl," she mumbled. In the end, you're always by yourself. You're all you got.

"Buffy?" Angel's cool fingers on her cheek broke into her thoughts. "You sure you want to do this? It's not to late for you to get out of here."

"Money." The word slipped out of her mouth before she could catch it.

Angel smiled at her. "You mentioned that earlier. Money and an elephant."

Sort of hoping you'd forget about the elephant. Buffy was suddenly nervous. She pulled away from his mesmerizing touch. I can't do this and get sidetracked at the same time.

"The elephant. In the room. With us." She looked at him expectantly. You've been around for centuries. Make the leap here, Angel. He looked back at her blankly. Shit. We're doing this the long way. 

"It means—"

Angel reached for her hand. "I know what it means, Buffy." He kissed the palm of her hand. "Just tell me." He tilted her chin up. She was drawn into his eyes.

I could drown in these eyes forever. "If we kill the mayor, and if we kill the Hellmouth beast, and if we close the Hellmouth, and if we survive," the words rushed out and collided against her fear. 

"That's a lot of ifs," Angel chuckled and kissed her forehead.

"What happens to us?" Buffy whispered the words into his chest. Angel's body stilled. His lips were motionless against her forehead. One hand rested on the curve of her back; the other hand stopped massaging her thumb. "Will you still leave me?"


End file.
